Path of Honor (35 page)

She nodded resolutely. She would not allow Aare to murder their father. If Kaj Vadonis and Reisiltark wouldn’t help her on her father’s behalf, they would to keep Aare from destroying the
ahalad-kaaslane
and beginning another war with Patverseme. And with Aare sending kidnappers after his sister, Kaj Vadonis would be eager to thwart Aare.

Emelovi waited to retreat until Aare went to bed. She lay awake the rest of the night, plotting her next step. She must not allow Aare to know anyone had eavesdropped on him, but she must also tell Kaj Vadonis about his sister, before it was too late to help her. He would react strongly, she knew, and so they must have privacy. And then he must act quietly. It would be best if Kaj Vadonis’s men got to Ceriba. They could hide her and tell Aare’s men she was dead, killed by the plague or by
nokulas
. A pang struck Emelovi. Indeed, that could well be the truth.
Lady, keep her safe. Keep us all safe.

R
eisil woke just as the first light crept beneath the cracks of her windows. With a groan, she pushed back her bedclothes and clambered out of bed, stumbling to the washstand and rinsing her face in the icy water. She fumbled her boots on and buckled her gauntlet into place, lifting Saljane to her shoulder. But when she turned to leave, she found Yohuac slouching in the doorjamb. He nodded and stepped aside as she approached. Reisil paused, wondering what to say, and then walked past. He and Baku followed. Kebonsat was going to have a surprise this morning.

She stopped first in the kitchens, pilfering a fresh loaf of bread, a couple of shriveled apples and a leftover slab of roasted goat from the night’s feast. She gestured to Yohuac to follow suit, the kitchen staff ducking beneath the long preparation tables and pressing against the walls, cooks brandishing knives and long-handled spoons as Baku trailed them through the room. The trio departed the kitchens, following the wide gravel walk to the slaughter yard, past the stables and out to the copse of bare-limbed trees where she and Kebonsat had arranged to meet.

~You should go out and hunt this morning while I begin my lessons
, she told Saljane.

~I ate yesterday
.

Reisil lifted Saljane onto her fist and tossed the goshawk into the air, watching fondly as Saljane beat her wings and rose like an arrow to disappear into the low-slung clouds.

Exhilaration. Eagerness. Strength.

Baku snarled in her mind. Reisil ignored his testiness, nodding a greeting to Kebonsat as he materialized out of the trees, their ice-sheathed branches shining like crystal. Kebonsat returned Reisil’s nod, his attention fixed on Yohuac and Baku.

“New friends?”

“
Ahalad-kaaslane
. In a manner of speaking.”

Kebonsat lifted his brows, but Reisil didn’t explain, and instead introduced Yohuac and Baku. “They arrived last night,” Reisil said, covering a yawn with her hand, wincing as her jaw cracked. “Late last night.”

“I heard something about it.”

“I imagine it was startling.”

Kebonsat lifted his shoulder. “I’m getting used to that sort of thing.” He studied Yohuac for a moment, but asked nothing further before turning back to Reisil. “You’re late. We should get started.”

Reisil followed him through the copse to a small cleared space beyond, out of sight of the main barracks and parade grounds.

“I have this for you.” Kebonsat lifted a scabbarded sword from where it leaned against the bole of a smooth-skinned maple. He unbuckled the belt straps and straightened them from their careful coil.

“Might as well begin here. It isn’t as simple as it looks.” He then showed her how to buckle the sword around her hips. Twice around, one strap higher than the other, then adjusting the scabbard low on her left side. “The wide part should go around your back—it’s more comfortable. Using the double-around lends you some balance, makes the sword easier to carry, especially when you’re walking. You’re going to need to wear this all day long for the next month just to get used to it. It’s going to tangle your legs, catch on furniture and generally annoy the spit out of you. And that’s just walking. Sitting is a whole new game of dice. Try it.”

Reisil paced away, the sword an unfamiliar weight on her left hip. It rocked back and forth and in and out with every step, jouncing against her calves and tangling in her cloak, the pommel poking her side and knocking against her elbow. She walked back and forth, feeling very foolish, as if she were dressed up for a masquerade.

“All right, that’s enough for now. Take it off. We’re going to be working with practice swords for a while.”

It took Reisil several minutes to sort out the buckles and unwind the belt from her waist. Kebonsat showed her how to loop the belt around the scabbard to keep it from tangling or dragging. Next he handed her a dull-edged practice blade, scarred from heavy use. Its wire grip was long enough to be held with two hands. Kebonsat showed her how to hold it with her thumb lengthwise along the grip for control, and he encouraged her to take several practice swings.

“It doesn’t feel heavy now, but trust me, before we’re through your arms will feel like porridge. Now keep your wrist stiff but flexible, like that. Same with your elbow.” Kebonsat prodded at her, bending her arm into position. “The gauntlet is going to make it hot and strange for you, limit your movement some, but chances are you’ll be wearing it whenever fighting becomes necessary, and no one is going to give you time to strip it off, so you may as well learn to fight with it on.”

Kebonsat grabbed another practice sword and took his position opposite her.

“Keep your shoulders square to me. Narrow your stance. You’ll need to keep your weight forward on the balls of your feet and keep them under you—shoulder-width apart. Now, let’s jump right in. This is just to get you used to handling the sword and for me to see what you can do, so just concentrate on not getting hit. Don’t try to block blows with strength alone. Winning most often comes down to who gets tired first. Raise your blade and step to the side, shoving away my blade along the line of the blow.”

With that Kebonsat launched a slow series of blows that Reisil was forced to counter. Her sword vibrated in her hands as he struck, and she only just barely managed to keep from dropping it, dodging away like a scared rabbit.

“Keep your grip firm, just as if you were chopping wood with an ax. Same principle. Let your arms absorb some of the blow, and push the rest aside. There you go,” he said as Reisil deflected the next strike, turning awkwardly and dropping her swordpoint nearly to the ground. “Face me directly—you can’t fend off a left-sided attack if your body is turned to the right. Keep your feet under you—no, don’t fall back on your heels. You’ll have no power behind your sword at all.”

The lesson ended more than an hour later. Reisil was drenched, and her entire body shook with strain. She could no longer hold her sword upright, and her heart pounded.

“Good,” Kebonsat said, hardly winded. “It’s a good beginning. You need conditioning, though. I suggest at the very least you run up the stairs to your room as quickly as you can manage every time you go up. If you can find an opportunity to chop some wood, that would benefit you as well: harden your hands and put on some muscle. Try also squatting rather than sitting, and you’ll want to practice diving and rolling. Tomorrow we’ll begin in earnest.”

Reisil stared at him, unable even to swipe away the sweat trickling down her forehead. “In earnest?”

“Today you simply got a feel for the sword. Tomorrow you’ll start learning form and technique.”

“Tomorrow I won’t be able to move.”

“True. But give it a week or so, and you’ll start feeling better.”

“I need a bath. A long, hot one. And my cloak,” Reisil said, shivering as the chill wind cut through her damp clothes. Yohuac leaped to his feet from the place he’d been sitting and settled her cloak over her shoulders. Reisil pulled up the hood and snuggled inside, wishing for a cup of hot kohv.

“Maybe this will help,” Kebonsat said, and brought out a basket containing bread, cheese, custard tarts and a tall corked jar. Reisil reached eagerly for the cup of kohv he held out. He held the other out to Yohuac, who shook his head with a slight smile.

“You have done the work this morning. I would suggest hobbles for her feet tomorrow.”

“Hobbles? Like a horse?” Reisil asked incredulously.

Kebonsat nodded. “Similar. Keeps you from putting your feet too wide. I hadn’t thought about it, but it would be faster.”

“There are also some exercises that may aid in strength, flexibility and reflexes,” Yohuac continued. “She has a habit of dropping her left shoulder. And she wants to stand too close, probably because she trusts you.”

Soon he and Kebonsat were involved in a discussion about her training, of which Reisil understood only a bare one in four words. She sat down cross-legged and began munching on the food and sipping the kohv with half-lidded eyes. Her body was one big ache, and already she was beginning to stiffen. Reisil thought longingly of her bed.

She felt a movement behind her and found Baku curling around her. She leaned gratefully into his bulk, feeling sudden warmth radiating through her back. Reisil sighed.

Reisil felt Baku relax beneath her as a long sigh shuddered down his length. There was an easing in her mind, as if he no longer needed to cling with such a desperate grip. Suddenly she became aware that Yohuac and Kebonsat had fallen silent. Kebonsat was frowning at her while Yohuac bit into a custard tart. He chewed, eyeing the pastry with a surprised, pleased expression. Kebonsat cast a sidelong glance at the other man and then looked back at Reisil.

“About last night,” he said, trailing off meaningfully.

About the assassin’s attack, he meant. “Go ahead. Yohuac already knows.” At least that someone was trying to kill her. Probably he knew all the details that Baku had rummaged from her mind.

~I am his
ahalad-kaaslane, Baku said acerbically.

Even if Yohuac was determined not to be. How long could Baku chase after Yohuac if the man remained steadfast in his denial?

Kebonsat’s frown deepened. “All right. My man found nothing to suggest that anyone inside Koduteel is responsible for the attack. Many seem to think it would be a good idea—a quick solution to an irritating problem—but no one here seems to have taken that step yet. That said, Rocis could find no hint of who might be responsible. He may, in time, discover more, but he is very good, and for him to have found nothing at all—” Kebonsat shook his head, his expression troubled. “This is well planned and well financed. Whoever’s behind it isn’t using local talent. Our assassin is good enough to keep hidden, and yet he’s managed to get into the palace, all the way to your quarters.

Reisil chewed her lip. She had to tell him about the first attempt on her life. He couldn’t help her without knowing the truth. “They. There were more. There may still be more.” Then she told him about being chased down the bluff. “I killed three,” she said tonelessly. “At least one got away, maybe more. I couldn’t tell. If my magic hadn’t come at just that moment . . .”

Suddenly she stiffened.

Was it possible that Baku’s magic had somehow tainted hers? Had it been his rage, his brutality she had felt at killing the assassins?

Reisil slumped. All her. There was no escape.

~Thank you,
she said finally to Baku.

~Isn’t it the same?
Reisil asked bitterly.

Baku fell silent, and Reisil rubbed her ear. Was he right? She thought back to the moment. The brilliant fire from her hands. The ashy outlines on the ground. That release of fierce joy and triumph. She shook her head. She couldn’t separate it out. Her lips tightened, and she felt her face harden. It didn’t matter. She had to stop stewing about it and get on with stopping the plague and figuring out what to do about the
nokulas
. About the Iisand.

Reisil set her cup down. She had no doubt that they were being watched. Dared she speak?

And then Reisil felt something move through her and outward toward the edges of the clearing. She went cold. She looked quizzically at Yohuac.

“The na—” Yohuac broke off, correcting himself. “Reisiltark would speak. Baku has made certain no one will eavesdrop.”

Reisil waited until the wary Kebonsat had seated himself. “I am told the Iisand has become a
nokula
.
Nokulas
are altered beasts and people,” she declared bluntly. Kebonsat jerked upright, his dark eyes flaring.

“Altered how?”

“Whatever your wizards did at Mysane Kosk. Their magic has been spreading, twisting all it touches. Yohuac comes from a land that has been infected by it. The plague is also the result of the magic done there. And I have no ability to cure it. I have tried. It has already begun to creep into the Fringes. Soon it will spread throughout Koduteel.”

Kebonsat seemed curiously unsurprised at this news. “It was spreading this way. It could not be held off for long. What are you planning?”

“I wanted to go to the wizards. They cast the spell in Mysane Kosk; they ought to know how to repair what they’ve done. But with the sorcerers here now . . . Sodur thinks it would be dangerous to leave. After what our guests did at the reception last night, I can’t disagree. I have to stay in Koduteel. Yohuac adds another wrinkle to things. He was sent here to find me—” Reisil broke off.